Antithesis of Virtue
by More Than You Can Handle
Summary: He never thought they’d be able to get along, let alone fall for her. And he never imagined that she’d join him on the dark side. First full length story, please R&R! DM/HG Rated M just in case.
1. Prologue

Antithesis of Virtue

Summary: He never thought they'd be able to get along, let alone fall for her. And he never imagined that she'd join him on the dark side.

Disclaimer: I own…wait. I don't even own a Harry Potter poster! cries and yes, J.K. Rowling owns all.

Prologue: London, October 29, 1999

A young woman sat in a hard, straight-backed chair in front of her superior. Her long brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail, her curls straining to get free. Dressed in a no-nonsense suit, a casual passerby might've thought she was either extremely competent or cold. Unless they looked closer, they'd miss the sparkle in her eyes, or the glitter in her jewelry. Then they would have missed the run in her left stocking and the fact that her black leather heels were scuffed.

At nineteen, she was the youngest code breaker the Ministry had ever hired. She was freshly graduated and full of over-the-top plans to make both the Muggle world and the Wizarding world better. She inspected the chipping wine-red nail polish on her fingernails, before shifting in her seat.

A knock on the large oak door, followed by it opening and a young man walking in caused her to turn in her seat. He stood there, looking around the room, and then rubbed his left fore arm. He glared at the young woman through silvery-blonde hair and sat in the chair next to hers, clearly displeased. Unlike his companion, he was clearly not someone you would find with scuffed shoes. True to that fact, he was dressed in a Muggle-style male suit, impeccably clean and his shoes were almost mirrors. He could've been the same age as the young woman. Subconsciously, both young people clenched their teeth. The woman in front of the two young people smiled at them.

"Well, now that we're all here, we can properly start this meeting," she said. "Now, I know you both know each other, seeing as you went to school together." She looked down at the papers on her desk. The young man spoke up.

"Excuse me, ma'am, but I haven't been in school for about a year. And if we went to school together, it's most likely that she hasn't either," he smiled charmingly at the girl. She merely raised an eyebrow in response.

"Oh. I see," said the older woman. Then she smiled. "Then let me reintroduce you two." She looked up briefly. "Miss Hermione Granger, Mister Draco Malfoy. Mister Draco Malfoy, Miss Hermione Granger." In the brief seconds it took to say those two words, both Hermione and Draco's faces became closed, full of fury and in the case of Draco's close to throwing up. He jumped out of his chair.

"I am not going to be near that…that _mudblood_ over there, ever! Not even if you paid me!" he shouted, pointed at Hermione and moved to leave. She barely even flinched. His boss' cold voice cut through his movements.

"Mister Malfoy, I suggest you sit down." Draco obeyed, though sullenly. "And not only are you going to be near here, but you are going to work with her. And I will not tolerate you using derogatory names. Her name is Hermione Granger and you are allowed to call other people by their names, Mister Malfoy." He hung his head it what almost looked like shame, then looked up, his eyes steely and annoyed.

"Then what are we-"he choked out the word 'we'. "-going to work together on?" he finished asking, and glared out the window.

"Ah," the two young people's boss said, leaning over her desk towards them. "It is a very, very interesting project we have for you. I have good, strong letters of recommendations from all your teachers saying that you are the _only_ ones for the job. First I will give you the rules. One, you are to call each other by your proper, given names. First or last, it doesn't matter. But none of this name-calling like children. Rule two is that you have to at least _pretend _to get along for this assignment. It is vital for the project to not fail." She paused and looked at them closely, peering at them through her spectacles. "Now, onto the project…"

Hermione and Draco walked out of the office, both grim and unhappy. Hermione was about to turn away, into a different hallway, when Draco grabbed her arm and pushed her against the wall.

"Listen, Granger," he started, speaking in a heated whisper. "I don't get why _we _have to do this and I don't understand how on earth they think you and I could work together, but," he paused to breathe. "Don't think that this means we're friends, because we aren't, and _DON'T_ touch me at all, unless you have to." He stopped to breathe again when she cut in.

"Look, Malfoy, I don't think this has gotten through your thick skull but this is important for the good of the entire world, not just our Wizarding one! And what makes you think I'd want to touch you of my own free will? One last thing; I never saw it as a friendship offer. Now let go of me!" She wrenched her arm out of his grasp and walked off, pushing through the door. Draco looked at his hand and scowled, disgusted. Then he stalked away as well, aiming for a bathroom to wash his hand.

Oooooh. What drama. What intrigue. Tell me what you think of it. I'm not posting another chapter until I get about five reviews.

MTYCH


	2. Chapter 1

Antithesis of Virtue

Summary: He never thought they'd be able to get along, let alone fall for her. And he never imagined that she'd join him on the dark side.

Authors Note: Sorry about the incredibly long wait. I just have a ton of homework. Oh, and I'm ending waiting for a certain amount of reviews. It will be updated when it's updated.

Disclaimer: I own…multiple key chains. And yes, J.K. Rowling owns all.

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Chapter One: London, October 30, 1999

There was pressure on her shoulders. Still half-asleep, her mind registered it. Then: slight pain. She still refused to open her eyes. The pain continued. Again, more pain, this time it felt as though claws were digging into her shoulders. She finally figured out that it hurt. A lot. She opened her eyes.

"Eeep!" she exclaimed, her view being two very large yellow eyes. Her eyes focused and there were also feathers. Soft, brown feathers that could only be identified with…an owl. The owl cocked its head. She glared at it. It didn't move. She sat up. It left her shoulders, sat on her bed and stuck out its leg. Apparently, she had mail. She pulled the parchment off its leg.

_Granger,_

_I'm not writing you because I want to; I'm writing because I need an answer. First off, remember? We have to decide where we are going to live. It is part of our project to live together for some reason. And as I am _not _going anywhere near any Muggle dwelling, as I am sure you live in one, you will come to my Manor. I expect you to be here at four o'clock. Sharp. Don't be late._

_-Draco Malfoy_

She scowled. Of course Malfoy would send an evil owl to rip her shoulders open. It was just like him. She looked at her alarm clock. Seven o'clock AM. "Bloody _Hell_!" she thought angrily, glaring at the alarm clock, the owl turning away from her, and her mirror. Hermione stormed out of her room and into the bathroom. Inspecting her shoulders, she noted with relief that her shoulders only had some deep scratches, though her night gown was not as lucky.

Hermione sighed and said a quick healing spell on her shoulders before turning to her shower.

"Since I'm up, no thanks to that owl and Malfoy, I might as well get ready for the day," she said aloud, removing her night gown and tossing it in a corner. She got into the shower and twenty minutes later, got out of the shower.

After a short amount of time spent staring at her reflection in the slightly fogged up bathroom mirror, she wandered back to her bedroom, still in thought. A quick spell dried her hair and she pulled her hair into a ponytail. A flick of her wand opened her drawers and her clothes flew to her. She stopped dead as she reached for her clothes, realizing what she was doing.

"I AM BECOMING TOO FUCKING DEPENDANT ON MAGIC!" she yelled at an empty flat. Then she stormed around slamming drawers closed before putting on the clothes she had summoned. After all this, she sat around being bored and trying not to blow things up until three forty-five. Getting up, she found a piece of parchment to scribble a note to her room mates, Ron Weasley and Harry Potter.

_Harry, Ron;_

_I've gone off on a meeting for that Ministry job I told you two about. It may change my living arrangements, so Ron you might not have to sleep on the couch. I'll fill you in when I get back._

_Love, Hermione_

After taping the note to the fridge, a contraption that still mystified and captivated Ron, she threw on her jacket and locked up the flat. A short walk brought her to the alley way that Hermione, Ron, and Harry used for apparating. A quick check for Muggles allowed her to apparate to the Malfoy manor.

She appeared in front of a large manor surrounded by large pine trees. A large eagle-owl hooted at her sleepily from one of the trees. She smiled wryly at herself. By this point in her life, she was pretty sure she knew the Malfoy's eagle owl. Everyone knew it on sight, judging from the fact that it delivered sweets to Draco Malfoy almost every week of his Hogwarts career. Just as she was stepping up to knock on the impressive black oak door, it creaked open. After a moment of confusion – why did the door just open like that? – a squeaky voice sounded from around her knees.

"Hello Miss," Hermione looked down. A house elf with large golden eyes was looking up at her. "I is Rila, Miss. Young Master says you must wait in the foyer until he comes to get you. Follow me, Miss." The house elf finished her squeaking and beckoned Hermione to follow her. Which Hermione did. Rila led her to a moderately sized room all done up in black and green. _If I had doubted before, this dispels all doubts. This is one extreme Slytherin family._ Hermione thought as Rila bade her to sit where ever she wanted. She sat on a black leather couch with green trim. For a while she sat there, nervous, and fiddled with her wand. The minutes started to add up and Hermione began to grow bored. She began to gaze about the room, looking at everything. Her quick brown eyes began to note that the impressiveness was wearing thin in some parts of the room. In fact, now that she thought about it, it wasn't ostentatious at all. If anything, it was merely like the Malfoy's were trying too hard. If Malfoy was trying to cow her or impress her, he was seriously failing. A slight, annoyed cough alerted her that she was no longer alone in the room. Hermione spun off the couch and around, hand gripping her wand tightly. It was Malfoy, trying to look impressive, commanding or imperious, while really looking kind of twitchy and annoyed.

"Yes?" she asked, taking control from him. He glared at her. She glared back.

"You're late," was his reply. Hermione had a fresh glare for him.

"I am not late, Malfoy. I got here are exactly four. You just didn't get into the room in your own house on time!"

"It's my house, Granger! Are you stupid enough to believe that -" he was cut off there because he had to dodge a well-aimed jelly-legs jinx. His reflexes allowed him to grab Hermione and have her pinned against one wall, their faces barely an inch apart. One fore arm was pressed against her throat. His eyes were full of hatred.

"Now, now, Granger. You wouldn't want me to kill you just when the Ministry needs you." Hermione couldn't do much but glare, considering her position. Malfoy suddenly paled and jumped away from Hermione, grabbing his left wrist. A few beads of sweat rolled down his face as his grip on his wrist grew tighter. He was biting his lip. Then, it stopped. He sat heavily in his chair, shaking slightly with a small wince on his face. Curiosity overcame her and she walked over to him and grabbed his wrist. his sleeve fell down his arm and the Dark Mark stared up at her, more black than ink. She drew in a sharp breath.

"So you _are_ a Death Eater!" she exclaimed, staring at the Mark with mixed revulsion and curiosity.

"Why do you think I'm on this project, Granger? If I wasn't, they wouldn't need me, would they?" he replied, ice in his voice.

"Right," she said absently, still staring transfixed at the tattoo. The snake was waving slightly on his skin. She tried not to shudder openly. Then: "Don't you have to go or something?" she asked, still transfixed by the snake.

"No, not really. I have to talk this plot over with you, you know. And they know I'm rather important at the Ministry, so they'll forgive me for this." He answered simply, wondering why she was staring at his Mark in that way.

"Okay…" she said. Malfoy suddenly frowned. This was getting _much_ too weird for his tastes.

"Granger!" he snapped his fingers in front of her face. It worked. She looked up, blushed and realized that she was holding his wrist. She flung herself into a different chair and stared at Malfoy.

"Yes?"

"Merlin, Granger. Do I have to do everything?" Hermione blinked. "Fine, I will. The Ministry needs us to spy on Voldemort and his Death Eaters-"

"Like you?" she asked.

"No. If I was bad, would I be spying on my own side? As I was saying: and the Death Eaters when or if we can."

"How am I supposed to fathom your character? And yes. That part is done and agreed to. Yes. I can do that." Malfoy sighed in a defeated-sounding way.

"Granger, we need to figure something out. We have to be there at the same time. And we'll have to talk with each other during the times we are in view, so we have to pretend to be very close."

"Why would we have to pretend to be close? What difference will that make?"

"I have a reputation for keeping to myself during those events."

"Ah. Well, I suppose we could pretend like a relationship or something…I mean, I didn't take all those acting lessons for nothing…"

"I see. Well, that could work," he paused to think. "Yes. I could say that you are a witch I found in a country that I've traveled in, so they won't think that you're from around here…"

"But why would just knowing you let me in? Won't the relationship have to be more than acquaintances?" Malfoy paled a little as he thought over this, then swallowed several times.

"Granger, I'm afraid we'll have to pretend something awful. We're going to have to pretend to be in love." She blanched a little as well.

"Oh stop being naïve. This is to protect the entire world. I guess I can pretend well enough. The only question is, can you?" she raised an eyebrow. He was a little miffed at her naïve comment.

"Of course I can pretend. Do you think I'm Potter or Weasley? Malfoy's are born actors, okay?" The two were getting ready for another heated argument and possibly World War Three when Rila saved them all by coming in and announcing that "Tea is ready, Master, Miss!" and bringing in a tray with tea and biscuits on it. The tray was balanced on her head. The whole sight was so comical that both the young adults burst into laughter and Hermione helped Rila place the tray on the table.

"Fine. Pax. Just no fighting. It would be very bad if we fought all the time." Hermione said decisively.

"Oh, alright." Malfoy said almost teasing her. "There's just one thing…" he said, and poured tea for both of them.

"What is it?" she asked suspiciously, taking her tea and sipping it.

"Well, if we're to pretend that we're completely in love, what happens when one or more of the Death Eaters come over and not only are you not here, but you have no belongings here either?" he ate a biscuit.

"What are you implying?" she asked, very suspicious by this point. She put down her cup.

"Well," he said slowly. "I'm saying that I think you need to live in the Manor with me until this project is over." She stared at him in shock and horror.

"Live. With you. Are you serious?" she managed to choke out.

"I can't believe I'm actually saying this either, Granger. But listen, what if that were to actually happen? The entire project would blow up in our faces. You can have one of the guest rooms near mine, I guess."

"Well…Okay, I guess. Though I don't know how I'll break it to Harry and Ron…" she chewed on her lip, thinking hard. "Oh, what's the use? I'll just tell them enough so they don't want to run around killing things."

"Great. Deal." Malfoy stuck out his hand to shake.

"We're already bound to carry this out by Ministry magic you know." His hand stayed out stretched. "Oh, whatever." She shook his hand, rolling her eyes.

"Now…what country are you from?" he asked, one of his eyebrows rising ever so slightly.

"I went to France for a summer once when I was younger. I'm fluent in French, Monsieur Malfoy."

"Très bon, Mademoiselle Granger. It's perfect. I've been to France several times and I am also fluent. So it will work." She let a small smile grace her lips for a second.

"Well, if that is all, I will go back to my home." She stood up, leaving her tea on the table.

"Come back tomorrow with all your clothing and such. Don't forget."

"Fine, Malfoy. I won't, thought. Just don't send that owl again," she shuddered lightly and left the room.

Malfoy sat there for a few minutes before realizing he had a civil conversation (well, somewhat civil) with Granger and had TOUCHED HER AND LET HER TOUCH HIM.

He ran to one of the many bathrooms to clean his hand and wrist.

Ooh, this is an interesting development!

And the British think tea fixes everything.

And I apologize in advance for the French, I'm using the internet to translate.


	3. Chapter 2

Antithesis of Virtue

Summary: He never thought they'd be able to get along, let alone fall for her. And he never imagined that she'd join him on the dark side.

Disclaimer: I OWN ABSOLUTELY NOTHING -sobs-

General Thank You: Thank you to everyone who has read/reviewed/faved/alerted this story! You're really appreciated! hands out cookies

I know I said this would come quicker, but school really caught up to me….And I got distracted a few times. But, here it is!

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Chapter Two: London, October 30 and 31 1999

Hermione returned to her flat and was rather shocked to discover that evening was falling and that dinner hadn't even been started. Harry and Ron were sitting at the kitchen table, staring at the oven as though it could cook dinner for them. She sighed slightly.

"Hello you two," she said, walking into the kitchen. They looked up, smiling.

"Hermione! You're back!" Ron exclaimed, getting out of his chair and pulling her even farther into the kitchen. Harry waved, and went back to his vigil. Hermione burst into laughter.

"I get it. You two want me to make dinner."

"Please, Hermione? You know we can't cook worth a damn!" Harry exclaimed. Hermione continued to laugh as both boys' faces fell.

"You aren't going to cook?" Ron asked, crestfallen.

"You're a wizard! Both of you!" both faces looked at her in shock. "Of course you can cook with magic! How do you think your mum handles it, Ron?" she sat down in a chair, trying to stop laughing. Harry sat down opposite and took her right hand while Ron grabbed her left hand.

"Please, Hermione? Please, please, please, please, please?" they begged her. Hermione had to admit that they were very good at begging. She sighed.

"Fine. This is the last time I'm doing this, though." They nodded, smiling slightly. She smiled back.

"You two are idiots, did you know that?" she laughed as she stood up.

"We would if we had ever listened to Snape – which we didn't," Harry answered.

One and a half hours and a lot of laughter later, the three best friends were almost finished the magicked meal Hermione had cunningly prepared.

"Listen, you guys, I really have to talk to you," Hermione said slowly, taking a liberal sip of her beer. **(A/N: They've graduated. Obviously they can drink.)**

"It isn't anything really bad is it?" Ron said, suddenly suspicious. Hermione grinned wryly.

"Well, you will definitely think it's horrible. But I have to do this."

"You still aren't telling us, Hermione," Harry pointed out as he gathered the dishes.

"Right." Hermione pushed away her drink and took one last breath. "Well, you know how I told you I got that new job with the Ministry? Well, this is about the job." Her room mates nodded. "I'm not allowed to tell you much, but it's an undercover job and I'm working on it with Malfoy. And I have to go live in his manor to help make the undercover bit look real. So I'm leaving tomorrow." There was silence for about two seconds.

"What the _hell_, Hermione!" Ron exploded. "Of all the people you could work with and you choose _Malfoy_?" Hermione took a deep breath and counted to ten.

"Ok, Ron, there are a few things you apparently don't understand. One, Malfoy and I were assigned to work together, so there was absolutely no choosing on my part. Or his, for that matter. And, two, this undercover job is to save the world! Would you rather die when Voldemort comes here and kills you!?" She pulled her drink back towards her and took another healthy swallow.

"I don't like Malfoy one bit, though I like Voldemort even less. If this helps get rid of him, then I think it is fine," Harry said slowly. Hermione smiled at him before looking back at Ron.

"Listen Ron, you may not like it, but I have no choice!"

"Fine," Ron swallowed. "What ever. Saving the world is good, I guess." He left the kitchen and Harry and Hermione heard the bathroom door close. Hermione sighed and buried her hands in her hair. She stared at the table top.

"I don't get him. Why does he always do this?" she asked the table. A tear tracked down her cheek and splashed on the table. Harry got up and put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"It'll be okay by tomorrow, Hermione. You know that. He's been getting better at controlling his temper since he and Lavender broke up," Harry said before softly kissing the side of her head and going to the bathroom door. She continued to stare at the table sadly until she heard what Harry was yelling through the bathroom door.

"C'mon, mate! Get out of the loo! Other people need to use that thing too!" Hermione started to giggle. Apparently, Ron was ignoring Harry's pleas. "Come one Ron! Please! Get out of the bathroom!" It sounded as though Harry was almost begging. Hermione continued to laugh as she quickly charmed the dishes clean. Almost ten minutes later, she was still laughing when the bathroom door clicked open. Hermione was charming all the dishes into their drawers (laziness reigned supreme once again), when the boys' voices sounded. Except, their voices were low murmurs to her ears…disregarding it for the silliness of boys, she wandered back to her room. Once in her room she realized that she needed to pack for tomorrow. '_If I have to have all my crap packed for tomorrow I am going to need my biggest trunk and a shrinking spell_…' Hermione pulled out her largest trunk and opened it. Then, after a quick shrinking spell, every single clothing item she owned was in her trunk. She also put in a few mementos, and then locked the large trunk. She left her room, only to find herself face-to-face with Ron. He was looking at his feet.

"Hermione…" he started, blushing. She looked at him, slightly surprised.

"Yes?" She asked, curious.

"I guess I should apologize for my behavior earlier." He said slowly. "It wasn't right for me to be unfair towards you. I just hope you'll be okay over there with all those Death Eaters." He finished very quickly.

"Oh, Ron," she laughed. "Of course I'll be okay. Remember, the less you hear, the better it is. And it wasn't right. But I'll forgive you," Hermione hugged Ron, before continuing on towards their living area. Harry was seated on the couch, flipping channels with a bored expression. "You told him to apologize, didn't you, Harry?" Harry looked up at her.

"Well, yes, but I didn't expect him to apologize so quickly," he said. Hermione sat down next to him.

"It was very sweet of you to tell him to apologize. I don't want to leave with bad feelings," she said, staring at the flickering-changing images on the TV. She looked at the remote out of the corner of her eye before lunging at it.

"Hey!" Harry said loudly, pulling the remote out of Hermione's way. "Who said you got to do the channel surfing?" The two friends laughed.

It was much later that same night when Hermione went to the bathroom for a glass of water. When she was returning to her room, she realized that the pull-out bed that Ron slept in was empty. Hermione would have thought about it, except, well, it was two-thirty in the morning. Then she stopped, and tiptoed back to where Harry's room was. There was a light shining softly from under the door. She looked at it, puzzled, for a moment, before shrugging and going back to her room.

The next morning found her curled up in her comforter fast asleep with breakfast smalls wafting through the flat. It was the strangeness of waking up to breakfast smells that woke her as much as the fact that the sun was shining in her face. Half stumbling into the kitchen, she discovered Ron and Harry cooking waffles, bacon and hash browns. She couldn't help it. She started to laugh.

"Good morning, Hermione," Harry said, turning around and smiling. "We're making you breakfast."

"I can see that," she said through the laughter.

"I always _knew_ I could cook," Ron said decisively as he served each of them two waffles and some bacon and hash browns.

"Ron, _I_ cooked," Harry said, accepting the plates. Ron stuck his tongue out at Harry before going to the fridge for drinks. Harry put the plates on the table before pushing Hermione into one of the seats. "Sit, Hermione. This is for you." She gaped at him.

"What? Why?" she was astounded.

"We talked it over and decided to make you breakfast for your last meal at a proper home," Ron said, putting three glasses of orange juice (no pulp) on the table.

"Oh, wow, you guys…that's so sweet of you!" she said, smiling. They both stared at her for a moment.

"Well, aren't you going to eat it?" Harry asked. Hermione paused. Knowing their prowess at potions, she was naturally hesitant about food. But she swallowed her fear and took a bite. It didn't taste _that_ bad, and it didn't kill her. She took another. Same result.

"It's pretty good, guys," she ventured, after surreptitiously checking to make sure she wasn't going to die. They beamed and dug into the meal themselves.

Much later, the three of them were standing in the alleyway that they used for apparating. Hermione had her trunk with her and she was very near to tears.

"I don't know when I'll see you two again," she said, keeping a sniffle out of her voice. Both Harry and Ron put an arm around her.

"Don't worry Hermy," Harry said comfortingly. "Everything's gonna work out fine. I promise." He hugged her tight before kissing her cheek.

"I promise, too, Herms," Ron said (trying to not be outdone) and he also hugged her and kissed her.

"Don't forget to clean the flat once in a while," Hermione reminded them, before apparating towards the Malfoy Manor.

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**Teaser For Chapter Three:**

Hermione stood in front of the door to the Malfoy Manor when the door swung open, seemingly of its own accord. A dangerous, velvet covered voice sounded from the Manor.

"You're late."

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_Who is talking to Hermione?_

_Can Harry or Ron actually cook?_

_Will Hermione have problems adjusting?_

_Where was Ron?_

_And what was Harry's light doing on?_


	4. Chapter 3

Antithesis of Virtue

Summary: He never thought they'd be able to get along, let alone fall for her. And he never imagined that she'd join him on the dark side.

Disclaimer: Nope. Still don't own anything.

Chapter Three: Malfoy Manor, October 31 1999

Hermione stood in front of the door to the Malfoy Manor when the door swung open, seemingly of its own accord. A dangerous, velvet covered voice sounded from the Manor.

"You're late." Hermione blinked up at the open door and scowled and the blonde haired young man in the door way.

"First off, I don't remember agreeing to an exact time to when I had to be here, Malfoy. And, therefore, how would I know if I were to be late if I didn't have a time?" She almost swore he looked confused as she sent her trunk into the Manor.

"I live here. Thus –" he leaned backward quickly; Hermione's trunk just barely avoided hitting his nose. "Everyone will always be late." Malfoy noticed a slight smirk on Hermione's lips and wondered if her trunk had almost hit him on _purpose_.

"Well that's not very fair, now, is it?" Hermione said, raising an eye brow and following her trunk into the Manor. "Now, let's see…." She paused and looked around the room. "So, where'm I sleeping?"

"In the room next to mine until guests come over, then the house elves will move your main…personal effects into my room to make it look as if we are a couple. Though I doubt any of the guests would actually care to check…" he trailed off and snapped his fingers. A male house elf appeared at Malfoy's knee. "Take Miss Granger's trunk to the room beside mine." The house elf left with Hermione's trunk in tow.

"Alright…out of curiosity, do you have a different name for my masquerade as _une fille française_?" she sat down on a chair and looked expectantly at Malfoy.

He swallowed. "Well, I have quite a few on call…"

"Tell me."

"Laetitia Tremblay," she frowned and shook her head. "Odette Fournier, Marguerite Laurent, Henrietta Girard," each one was received with a slight shake of her head

"Marie-Thérèse Lefebvre," Hermione suddenly said, eyes shining. Strangely enough, it was a good name for Hermione to take on. Malfoy looked at her closely and said the name in his mind as he looked at her before nodding once.

"It'll work." She smiled in response.

"I do have one small question though," Hermione brought up.

"Yes?" Malfoy crossed his arms, looking suddenly guarded.

"Will my clothing be good enough for all your –" she paused slightly. "guests to see me in, or will I have to get new clothing to hide my obvious Muggle raising?"

"Je suppose que je devrai simplement voir.1"

"Bien, puis. Menez la manière au cabinet.2"

"De cette façon,3" Malfoy lead Hermione into the house towards her room.

Malfoy was looking through her clothes with a slight frown on his lips. Hermione was leaning against a wall with her arms crossed. She raised an eyebrow. He'd been examining her wardrobe for over an hour.

"Well?" she coughed. Malfoy stiffened slightly.

"Listen, do you _want_ to be caught before we have a chance or not?" he said, not looking at her.

"No…" she said slowly, arching an eyebrow. "My clothes…?" Malfoy ignored her. She sighed. "Well?" Hermione asked again, sounding annoyed. "Are my clothes sufficient?"

"Yes," Malfoy said. "If you were a Muggle of some standing. This won't do for the Dark Lord and Death Eaters. They'd smell you out almost immediately." She narrowed her eyes coldly at the young man in front of her.

"What do you suggest I do, then, Malfoy?" she spat out. Malfoy inwardly sighed and thought to himself '_Once, just once, could I have a day where people_ don't _yell at me?_'

"Go shopping for the best wizarding wear money can buy. That includes those fancy Muggle evening gowns – they're the latest Wizard fashion for pureblood women. Don't ask me why. Charge everything to my account. Remember to act your character." Malfoy finished with such an air of finality that Hermione could only nod before leaving. Malfoy stayed where he was, staring into space in front of her trunk. After what felt like an hour, he roused himself, looked around for a moment and left. As he left her room, he muttered "Moron".

Malfoy didn't know who he was calling moron. Himself? Or her?

It was nearing eleven. Hermione still hadn't returned to the Manor. Malfoy was not pleased.

"Where the bloody hell is she? It doesn't take _this_ long to buy a few outfits…" (Poor Malfoy had never been good at understanding women.) He was glaring at his front door with all intents to blow it to pieces, when Hermione walked through the door, looking like she had had the time of her life. He immediately turned his glare on her.

"What?" she asked, noticing the glare. He remained stonily silent. She raised a delicate eyebrow. "Were you _worried_, Malfoy? Did you think I had run off with _all_ of your money?" She was mocking him, her laugh shaming him into talking.

"No," he growled back, though it had crossed his mind that she could have run.

"We both have a job to do, Malfoy. As much as I hate to say this, I'm not leaving." She was serious. Hermione took her shopping back into her possession and started to walk to her room. Malfoy fell in step beside her.

"Granger, you said yourself that we had to be civil -" She cut him off. They had paused on a landing. Hermione turned towards him.

"Civil?! I have been trying to be civil since I've gotten here, while all _you've_ done is act the same way you've _always_ acted!" Hermione nearly shrieked, turned and moved to continue up the stairs. Her hair had nearly whacked Malfoy in the face and he stared at it.

"You're…hair," he ventured a comment.

"What about it?" she snapped. Apparently, Hermione was still angry.

"It's…different." She wheeled back.

"Of course it's different!" she snapped, eyes flashing dangerously. Malfoy dimly noticed that her eyes were cocoa brown and rimmed by very long eyelashes. "I can't look like Hermione Granger in the midst of Death Eaters – many whom I suspect are former Hogwarts classmates of yours – can I? If you hadn't noticed, I got my hair professionally straightened and dyed to look more like Marie-Thérèse." He stared at her rather dumbstruck. Vaguely, Malfoy wondered if Potter and Weasley ever felt this combination of awe and amazement whenever Granger explained anything.

"That's…well, rather brilliant, Granger," he said, sounding half way between awed and pained.

"I'm not stupid. I knew I'd have to do something like this sooner or later." The pair suddenly found themselves in front of Hermione's room.

"Well, good night," Malfoy said, feeling rather awkward.

"Thanks," she mumbled, "g'night." There was an uncomfortable silence before Hermione quickly escaped into her room. Malfoy was about to leave for his own room when he remembered something important.

"Hey Granger!" he shouted through her door. "Some Death Eaters are coming over for dinner tomorrow!" He didn't wait for a response and disappeared into his own room.

Death Eaters over for dinner? Will it be the end of the assignment before it even began? What did Hermione buy? (For those who like fashion). Which Death Eaters are coming over? And why do the house elves disappear when things get awkward?

Here are the translations for those of you (like me) who have no idea what they said in French.

1 – I suppose I will have to see.

2 – Alright, then. Show me to my closet.

3 – Follow me.


	5. Chapter 4

Antithesis of Virtue

Summary: He never thought they'd be able to get along, let alone fall for her. And he never imagined that she'd join him on the dark side.

Disclaimer: I am the proud owner of the daring plot. J. K. Rowling is the proud owner of Hermione, Draco, Death Eaters, Malfoy Manor, etc.

And I would like to point out my sincerest apologies for lateness and such of chapters, including Chapter 3, possibly this chapter and in case for all future chapters. Grade 12 has a lot of work!

Chapter Four: Malfoy Manor, November 1, 1999

Nine o'clock AM found Hermione stumbling into the Breakfast Room, still looking half asleep.

"Found the room alright, then, Granger?" Malfoy sat calmly reading the Daily Prophet.

"No. One of the house elves showed me the way. Is there really a room for each meal?"

"No, it changes its name and appearance for every meal. You needn't worry. There's a different room for parties. I'll show you later."

"I don't want to think about how big your house is. So, some Death Eaters are coming for dinner?"

"Oui. You'll probably recognize them; they did, in fact, go to Hogwarts. Just remember that you do not know them. Don't even look surprised. These two are very suspicious, even for Death Eaters." Hermione glared at Malfoy.

"I'm not two, Malfoy. I think I can handle it."

"Really?" he arched an eyebrow, while his voice dripped with scorn.

"Surely better than you, Malfoy," Hermione seethed and stormed out of the room.

"We'll see," he said to himself, watching her storm away. Malfoy's attention turned to the house elf standing beside Hermione's empty chair. "Take a bowl of mixed berries, vanilla yogurt, toast, jam and tea to Miss Granger's room and inform her that I expect her at twelve noon for lunch and if she is feeling socialable before then, I shall be in the library. That is all." The house elf bowed and vanished. Malfoy sighed before heading to the library.

An hour and a half later, Hermione arrived at the library, arms crossed, with a peeved expression.

"So you're feeling socialable?" Malfoy asked, not looking up from his book. Hermione glanced at it. The title was 'Dragon's Blood & Other Essays: A Collection' (it was really 'When Your Enemy Lives with You').

"No," Hermione answered. "But I need to get some information from you."

"Ah, yes," Malfoy set aside his book and stood. "The dinner party room. Come, I will show you."

The tour completed, both young people were feeling much more comfortable with the other. A house elf appeared in front of them and bowed.

"If Master and Miss would care, lunch is served," the elf squeaked, before disappearing.

"You know," Hermione commented as the two switched directions and headed towards the lunching room, "I could get used to having house elves do house work for me." Malfoy gave her an odd look.

"But you've been protesting their servitude since fourth year," Malfoy reminded her.

She blushed slightly. "I know. Don't tell anyone, but I'm rather partial to being pampered." They shared a small grin.

Lunch passed rather amicably between the two. Before they parted company for the afternoon, Hermione remembered something.

"When are your guests coming?"

"Seven. And technically, they're 'our' guests." Both made faces at being pluralized with the other. "Be ready for six-thirty so I can explain a few last things to you." Hermione nodded and exited to her room. Malfoy stood there a while longer as he realized he had just spent a few enjoyable hours with one of his archenemies. He quickly went to the library and shut the door firmly. He planned to read in comfort until six.

Hermione was leaning against her door. Her eyes were closed and she was trying to figure out what exactly had happened. '_Let's see…_' she started. '_This morning I was mad at him. He sent me breakfast. I went to the library. He showed me his Party Room. We then talked. We ate lunch. There was civil conversation. No one tried to kill anyone._' She opened her eyes and shook her head. She still had no idea what happened. Hermione decided she needed to lie down. First she moved to the bathroom to get a cool cloth. She shook her head at the bathroom. The opulence of a mere bathroom just seemed silly to her. She crossed the pale yellow marble floor to the white marble sink. An incredibly plush pale yellow face cloth was subjected to cold water. Back in her room, she got comfortable on her wine-red down-filled comforter, closed her eyes and put the face cloth over her eyes. Her last conscious thought was '_I think there's secretly some Gryffindor love in this house_'.

Her eyes flew open. She was groggily staring at the deep red canopy before she suddenly flipped over and checked her alarm clock. Five o'clock. She relaxed, relieved, against her pillows. Hermione pushed herself off her bed and once again forayed into the bathroom. She took a quick shower, before staring at her open wardrobe.

"Now…" Hermione started talking to herself (a bad habit she picked up from the Weasleys). "First impressions are the most important thing for now. What will impress these Death Eaters that I really am Marie-Thérèse Lefebvre?" After considerable self-debate, Hermione chose an outfit and disappeared into the bathroom to do her hair and make up.

Malfoy was slowly getting impatient. It was six oh two, for crying out loud! He was starting to think he should have made the meeting time earlier so she would be on time for their meetings, when a musical voice reached his ears.

"Bonsoir, Monsieur Malfoy1" the voice said. Malfoy turned and barely stopped himself from gawking. (Remember, he had never seen her in anything fancier than a business suit). Hermione's newly-darkened hair had been pulled up, but some locks had broken free and were framing her face. Her deep green dress was form fitting and brushed the floor as she walked. She even had silver jewellery. "I hope I'm not over dressed, Malfoy," she asked, enjoying her surprise.

"Vous êtes habillé parfaitement, mademoiselle2," She barely registered his answer, for she had noticed how nice Malfoy looked when he was all cleaned up (not that he was ever _dirty_, the formal suit just made him _better_). Malfoy had thankfully opted to not gel his hair and his Muggle tuxedo suited him perfectly. He even had on an ice blue tie which showed off his ice blue eyes.

"You were going to give me some last minute instructions?" Hermione reminded him.

"Right." Malfoy squared his shoulders. "Our guests are Mr. and Mrs. Blaise Zabini. I'm only forewarning you so you don't try to kill his wife on sight."

"And who did Zabini marry?" Hermione was curious now.

Malfoy grimaced. "Pansy Parkinson. Feel bad for Blaise, Granger, Parkinson didn't even bother asking him if he wanted to marry her. She went straight to his parents." Hermione flinched.

"Ouch."

"Yeah." Malfoy exhaled. "When they arrive, you wait for them and do some French talking and then use your 'I-can't-speak-English-very-well' thing. We're going to have drinks in the sitting room beside the Dining room, so lead them there." As Malfoy was instructing Hermione, he led her through the easiest way to get to the sitting room. "Marie-Thérèse and I are very much in love, remember? So just chatter away or what ever until you get here." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"But Draco," she said in French-accented English, "How can I chatter about you if I know nothing about you?"

"Listen, I don't care," he said from the bar. "Just make up things about how nice I am or how pretty the Manor is or something. You're the one with acting lessons." He pressed a glass of whiskey into her hand before drinking out of his own glass. "Drink it. You're going to need it." Hermione obeyed. After all, he was the one who knew the Zabinis, not her.

The clock on the wall read 6:59:59 PM. The doorbell rang. Hermione stood and fixed her dress before motioning to the house elf to open the door. She walked towards the opening door with a smile on her face. The door was open and in walked the Zabinis. Mrs. Pansy Zabini was wearing a pink gown (unfortunately, it looked like the same one she wore to the Yule Ball) and her husband was wearing an outfit quite similar to Malfoy's. Hermione quickly started to speak.

"Ah, bonjour ! Bonsoir ! Je suis Marie3-" She noticed the dumbstruck look on both faces and put on a sad face **(A/N: Just pretend she's using her French person speaking English voice from now on when ever she's Marie-Thérèse, okay? I don't want to write it out.)** . "I…apologize. Good evening. I am Marie-Thérèse Lefebvre. Draco is waiting in the sitting room. If you would come with me?" She stopped her recitation and stared at them, waiting.

"My dear girl, what a lovely speech. I would like to introduce myself and my wife to you first. Draco already knows us." Blaise Zabini smiled at her kindly. "I am Mr. Blaise Zabini and this is my wife, Mrs. Pansy Zabini." Hermione smiled and shook both their hands.

"It is a pleasure to meet you both!" she exclaimed. "Now, Draco will have drinks ready, shall we go to the sitting room?" The guests nodded and followed her down the hall.

"I didn't know Draco had a new-" Pansy paused as she considered Hermione. "-girlfriend."

"Oh, yes," Hermione nodded happily. "It was love at first sight, I believe. Daddy was so happy he let me come to England." Inside, Hermione threw up a little.

"Ah." Pansy pursed her lips, looking annoyed.

"How long have you lived in England, Marie-Thérèse?" Blaise asked, trying to distract his wife.

"Please, call my Marie. It is so much easier. I've been here only…two and a half weeks, sir."

"If we are allowed to call you Marie, please, call me Blaise. You're English is very good, Marie."

"Thank you." They had now entered the sitting room. Malfoy stood as they entered and extended his hand.

"Blaise," he said, shaking hands. "How nice of you to finally show!"

"We were having a chat with Marie," Blaise answered as he moved to a chair.

"Pansy! You look ravishing, as always," Malfoy said as he kissed her hand. Pansy withdrew her hand coldly.

"Don't waste your theatrics on me, Draco," she said just as icily and sat on a couch. Malfoy turned to Hermione. He swore she had winked at him. "Marie, my dear," he kissed her cheek before going to the bar. Hermione hoped the expression on her face was one of happiness and not one of utter disgust. "Drinks anyone?" Malfoy called from the bar. Drinks were ordered. Hermione gave Pansy (sitting glumly on the couch) and odd look before going over to the bar. She raised an eyebrow. "Go be socialable with Pansy." Malfoy ordered her, and gave her both Pansy and her own drinks.

Hermione passed Pansy's drink to her before sitting down next to the unhappy woman. "Mrs. Zabini-" Hermione started, still trying to sound insecure in English.

"Marie, you heard my husband. You can call me Pansy." Pansy sipped her sherry. "So you are from France?"

"Yes. Have you ever been to France?" Pansy shook her head 'no' as she drank some more sherry. "Perhaps you could convince your husband to take you there one day?" Hermione suggested.

"Perhaps." Pansy was still stiff. After another pause for sherry: "Tell me about France, please." Hermione smiled and quite happily dived into a description of France.

The men were on the other side of the room, leaning against the bar.

"I hate you so much right now, Draco." Blaise said, watching his wife converse gaily with the French girl.

"Why?" Malfoy looked at his long-time friend, confused.

"One: You evaded marriage to Pansy. Two: I find that you have conquered the heart of a lovely, polite and charming French girl. I envy you, you bastard." Blaise smiled, taking the edge off his insult. Malfoy was secretly tickled that his old friend thought Granger was attractive.

"Look, mate, I'm sorry I didn't accidentally kill Pansy in Potions or anything."

"I know. It's just unfair that you got out of it so easy. Well, she couldn't really go to your parents, could she?" Malfoy sighed. He knew that barb well. His father was in Azkaban and since the arrest; his mother spent nearly every day in a drunken stupor. Malfoy had recently sent Narcissa to St. Mungo's for treatment.

"It was really dirty of her to talk to you parents, I know. Can we drop it now?" Malfoy didn't really want to hear about Blaise's marital misery.

"Fine. So what's Marie like?" Blaise abruptly changed subjects with a suggestive look towards Granger.

"Blaise, you disgust me. You're married, for Merlin's sake!"

"If you want to hear more about life with Pansy, I can keep talking…" the threat worked.

"Fine, fine," Malfoy laughed, throwing up his hands in defeat. "You win."

Back with Hermione and Pansy, Hermione had just finished describing the French Riviera. Pansy had long forgotten her annoyance (not discounting the work of sherry).

"It sounds so wonderful there, Marie. I wish I could see it."

"Maybe one day you will, Pansy." Hermione answered. Suddenly, a set of bells rang

"Ah, I believe that is dinner," Malfoy said, offering his arm to Pansy. Blaise offered his arm to Hermione. Both ladies took the arms and the four walked into the dining room.

Dinner and the rest of the evening passed socialably, and soon the four were chatting away like old friends. Near midnight, a consensus was reached and the two guests prepared to leave. General good byes were given (kisses for women, hand shakes for men) and the Zabinis were out the door. Malfoy had wrapped an arm around Hermione's waist and both were waving goodbye before Hermione closed the door.

"Je pense qu'ils l'ont acheté4," Hermione murmured in French.

"Why wouldn't they?" Malfoy whispered in her ear before disappearing into his Manor. There was a cold spot on Hermione's back and side where his arm had been.

Outside, Pansy turned to her husband. "She seems…nice." Blaise nodded.

"He always liked the smart ones."

This is my longest chapter to date! And my fastest update! Yay, free time! I would like reviews, thanks! It helps me know what you like!

Once again, translations for anyone who has no clue what anyone said in French.

1- Good evening, Mr. Malfoy.

2- You're dressed perfectly, Miss.

3- Oh, hello! Good evening! I am Marie.

4 - I think they bought it.


	6. Chapter 5

Antithesis of Virtue

Antithesis of Virtue

Summary: He never thought they'd be able to get along, let alone fall for her. And he never imagined that she'd join him on the dark side.

Disclaimer: I own many CDs but nothing Harry Potter–esque. Honestly.

Note: The last few chapters have been in daily succession. They won't always be. Like this chapter.

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Chapter 5: Malfoy Manor, November 29 and 30, 1999

Sunlight was slowly seeping into the Malfoy Manor. Sunlight was not seeping into the moods of the two human occupants. Weather forecast for the Malfoy Manor: Thundershowers.

"What the _hell_ do you mean, Malfoy!?" Hermione's shriek tore through the empty halls. Both were standing across from each other, arms crossed, glowering at the other. Hermione held a crumpled piece of parchment in her hand. Malfoy glowered.

"I mean exactly what I said, Granger!" Malfoy shouted back. "No Weasley is ever, nor will ever set foot inside my Manor!"

"Why?" She yelled back, voice rising.

"Because it's _my_ manor!" was the infuriatingly simple reply. Hermione exhaled sharply.

"Go rot in hell!" Hermione stormed away. Dimly, Malfoy heard her door slam. He really had nothing to say to Hermione's last comment. Once behind the security of her slammed door, Hermione locked it and burst into tears. She may have sat on her bed crying for a few minutes, or maybe a few hours when she heard the doorknob rattle. Hermione glared at the doorknob before she realized that Malfoy, a fully qualified wizard, stood on the other side of the door. "You so much as POINT your wand at my door and I will kill you!" she yelled, rather thickly, at the door, knowing Malfoy was behind it.

"Fine." His voice came through the door. "…Are you crying?"

"No!" Hermione blew her nose. "Why do you care?"

"I don't," he replied. "It's just…"

"Listen, you bastard," tears started to roll down her cheeks again. "You don't get it, do you?" Malfoy was going to reply that, obviously, he didn't, when she continued. "You don't know how hard it is for me! I had to uproot my entire life and leave everything and everyone I know to come live in some house with an awful, spoilt, prig of a wizard who didn't have to leave anything behind, all for a job!" Hermione broke down into sobs. Malfoy could hear her. He knew she was lying about crying.

Malfoy briefly wondered if he really was that bad, before coming to a decision. He chewed his lip before braving the strange creature on the other side of the door. "Listen, Granger, if it's really that important to you, Weasley can visit you tomorrow." He quickly left, in case he accidentally incurred its wrath.

Hours later, Malfoy was reading in the library when he heard the door creak open. He looked up and was mildly surprised to see Hermione standing in the doorway. Her eyes were puffy and her cheeks were tearstained.

"Thanks," her voice was scratchy, as if she had cried for a long time. She left immediately after speaking. Malfoy went back to his book. He knew that was the closest thing he'd get to an apology, ever.

Ginny Weasley was let into the mansion by a tiny house elf. "Wait here, please," it squeaked thinly. "Lyssa will get Miss." Ginny obeyed, sitting on a small couch in the foyer.

"Ginny!" Hermione said, overjoyed. Ginny gave Hermione a quick hug.

"Herms, I'm so glad you let me come visit!" Ginny exclaimed. Hermione scowled slightly.

"It's so nice to see a friendly face again," she answered, before linking an arm with her friend. "Let me give you a tour, or something like it," Ginny laughed.

"I'd love to see the infamous Malfoy manor," Ginny grinned, letting Hermione pull her into a hallway. Hermione hauled Ginny through the entire mansion, pointing out portraits of old Malfoys with famous Wizards and Witches and showing off the rooms. Unfortunately, quite a few of the portraits glared at them at muttered things like 'upstarts' and 'Muggle-lovers'.

Malfoy happened to be in the library reading a book about body language when he heard the two young ladies' voices drifting closer to the room. Quickly disguising the book as a less feminine-like book, he set himself up to look like he was being interrupted. Malfoy looked up as the two entered the room.

"And this is the library…" Hermione trailed off, seeing Malfoy in the room. The two stared at each. Ginny watched with a small smile playing on her lips.

"Good afternoon, Malfoy," she offered, bringing attention back to herself.

"Weasley," he responded coolly, before going back to his reading. Hermione looked around the library, searching for something to do.

"Do you want to see the extent of the library, Ginny?" Hermione offered.

"Uh, maybe not," Ginny answered, pulling Hermione out of the library.

"Show her the gardens, Granger," Malfoy said offhandedly as the two girls left. He went back to his book on body language. Granger confused him and he was going to figure her out if it was the last thing he did.

Outside, Hermione was a little distracted. She hadn't answered any of Ginny's questions. Ginny decided to take matters into her own hands.

"Merlin, Herms! What was that? It's like you're in love or something." That got Hermione's attention.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" She was shocked out of her reverie. Ginny laughed.

"Well that got your attention." Ginny shrugged. "Okay, maybe not love. But there was a heckuva lot of weird tension."

"Well I'm sure you'd have that much tension if your partner in a project was an ass, too," Hermione said, rather lightly. "Now, these rose gardens here…" Ginny cut her off.

"No way, Herms. We're officially gossiping about that guy in the manor now." Ginny was good at manipulating.

"Why?" Hermione was instantly suspicious.

"I want to know what you think of him."

"You don't have to frigging ask that. You know everything."

"I _knew_ everything back at school. _Now_ things are probably different."

"What?"

"Like…do you think Draco Malfoy is attractive?" Hermione narrowed her eyes at that.

"Are you spying for Ron and Harry?" Ginny laughed at the comment.

"No, no, no. Do you?"

"Do I what?" Hermione brought Ginny over to a gazebo. "Look, here you can see all the gardens and smell all the flowers on the breeze."

"Don't avoid the question, Hermione."

"But look at that view!"

"Why yes, that_ is_ a lovely view, but…" Needless to say, the rest of the afternoon passed much the same way.

It was evening. Ginny had to leave promptly, or, said she, her mother would 'kill me, skin me, roast me, then serve me as dinner". Rather morbid for Molly Weasley, but such were the times. There was much hugging and tears as the two friends said goodbye.

"Tell Ron and Harry that I'm okay, alright?" Hermione asked.

"I will. Oh, right. I'm supposed to give you a message from them. They said to tell you this: 'Together we departed to end our singularity and together have found grand happiness.' Though I have no fucking clue what that means." Hermione laughed a little.

"They haven't become drug addicts, have they?"

"Oh no, I don't think so. Well, they have been acting a little odder lately."

"Weird kids. Well, anyways, bye Ginny!"

"Bye Herms!" One last hug and Ginny was gone. On the way back to her room, Hermione stopped by the kitchen for an evening snack before bed. Much to her surprise, Malfoy was ensconced in the kitchen, being fed pumpkin pie.

"Um, hi?" Hermione ventured. Malfoy looked up.

"Good evening, Granger. Did you have a nice day with your friend?"

"Yes, thanks. Uh, why are your house elves plying you with pumpkin pie?"

"I really have no idea. I came down for a snack and I just started to get accosted by pieces of it." A house elf approached, carrying another piece. "No, Hilly, no! I've had enough pie!" Hilly apparently ignored him and placed it on the table anyways. Hermione started to laugh.

"I'll have a piece of the pie," Hermione offered. Instantly, eight pieces of pie were being held out to her. "Just one, thanks." She selected one and started out the door. She paused. "Happy eating, Malfoy. I'll roll you to breakfast tomorrow, how about?" Then she was gone, giggling. Malfoy scowled. He still didn't get her.

"I'll have to work out every day for a year to lose all this weight," he grumbled, before standing. "Okay, I've enjoyed the pie, thanks. I'm going to bed now." He left, ignoring the squeaks of dismay from the kitchen. There still seemed to be a million pieces of pie left, but it wasn't his fault.

Malfoy firmly closed the door to his room. Oddly enough, he swore he could still hear Granger giggling in her room.

"Shut up, Granger! We'll be eating pie for the next six months!" He threatened her through the wall. Hermione was, in fact, still giggling, but stopped long enough to answer.

"But I'll still have to roll you to breakfast tomorrow!" and she collapsed back into giggles. Malfoy shook his head sadly before turning off his light.

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And this chapter has finished!

Yes, kind of short and crappy

But I put in never-ending pie and the end.

Fluff, because it was needed.

Now who can explain Harry and Ron's message?


	7. Chapter 6

Antithesis of Virtue

Antithesis of Virtue

Summary: He never thought they'd be able to get along, let alone fall for her. And he never imagined that she'd join him on the dark side.

Disclaimer: I own…-breaks into tears- Nothing!

I bet you can't guess what's going to happen in this chapter! But it's not lemony.

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Chapter 6: Malfoy Manor, December 1, 1999

Hermione woke when a blinding white light hit her eyes. Opening her eyes, she noticed that her curtains were open and that her flagstone room was very cold. There was a very interesting light coming in through her window. Considering the temperature and the fact it was eight A.M, Hermione decided to investigate.

"Snow!" she exclaimed happily before laughing. Hermione twirled around her room before disappearing into her bathroom. In the next room, Malfoy had also just discovered the snow. His reaction, however, was not as jubilant.

"Great. Snow," he grumbled, grumpy as ever. Malfoy shuffled into his own bathroom.

Nine A.M. found both eating breakfast and contemplating the hope that the other was insane – Hermione thought he was because he was grumpy, Malfoy thought she was because she was _not_ grumpy. As it happened, both their emotions were going to change radically. _Fwoosh_. A black eagle owl landed gracefully on an empty chair. It glared at both of them before sticking out its leg. Malfoy took the letter attached before the owl took off. He read the letter to himself, his already pale skin losing even more colour, as Hermione itched with curiosity.

"What is it, Malfoy?" she finally asked, when it looked like he had finished reading. He silently handed over the letter. Hermione unrolled the parchment and read:

_Draco Malfoy,_

_Dinner at HQ tonight. You are required to attend. Black tie only. Bring the girl._

_L.V._

"Holy crap!" Hermione exclaimed. "I didn't think it would happen this fast." Malfoy nodded slowly.

"You're performance better be excellent tonight, Granger. These people are shrewd." With that, Malfoy left the room. Hermione sighed and left as well. Time to practice in front of the mirror.

Malfoy was stalking around the Manor, deep in thought, when he passed Hermione's room. Her door was open a crack and he could hear her talking.

"Oh, zis countree iz wonderrfull," French-accented English floated through the door. **(A/N: And that is why you are going to continue to just imagine Hermione speaking with an accent. I can't write accents.)** Malfoy started to smile as he walked away. Then he realized that he was smiling because of _Granger_ of all people, and quickly removed the smile.

Malfoy checked himself in the mirror. Clean pressed suit made up of black pants, black jacket, pure white shirt, tie, shiny black shoes. Check. He was ready to face Voldemort & Co. He walked to Hermione's room and rapped on the door.

"Come on, Granger. We can't be late. You're pretty much the guest of honour."

"What?" was her shocked and slightly panicked answer. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't recall hearing about anyone else bringing home a foreign significant other. Now come on."

"I need a few more minutes, Malfoy," Hermione called, before turning back to the mirror. Dark red full length gown and dark red lipstick. Kohl around her eyes. Two and a half inch heels. Hair in an updo. Red nails, silver jewellery. She took a deep breath and swallowed.

"Oh, come on Granger. Don't make us late. He hates it when people are late." Shaking her head, Hermione straightened her shoulders before exiting her room. "Finally." Malfoy said, turning towards her. It took all his self control not to gape or stare. How on earth could Granger look so...amazing? The dress hugged her curves and showed off her chest the way only large-chested girls can pull off **(A/N: Sorry if you don't understand that.)** and that colour! What it did! How it made her look! He was probably very close to drooling. Hermione smirked.

"Amazing how a Muggle-born can clean up so nicely, isn't it?" She turned and started to move towards the front door, dress trailing behind. Malfoy followed.

"Granger...what?" he asked when he caught up with her.

"You were staring," Malfoy was about to deny it when she continued. "So where's Head Quarters?" Malfoy coughed, feeling slightly uncomfortable.

"You aren't allowed to know, Granger. Before you start yelling, it's because no one knows if you're trustworthy. So he sent a car and made some other precautions." Hermione was going to start complaining, but then she saw that the 'car' was actually a limousine. She rolled her eyes. "Paranoia?"

"Sure. Get in the car so we can go, already," Malfoy never had much patience. Each disappeared into the limo.

The limo dropped them off at a brick wall. Both adults stood in front of the wall. Hermione stared, incredulous, at it.

"Malfoy, that's a brick wall," she told him.

"I know," he said, before taking her hand. "You are Marie-Thérèse Lefebvre as of right now." And he walked purposefully towards the brick wall.

"Malfoy…." Hermione whispered, watching the wall come ever closer.

"Shush." Barely an inch away from the wall, they stopped and a disembodied voice spoke.

"Name."

"Draco Malfoy."

"Hers?

"Marie-Thérèse Lefebvre. She's with me."

"Enter." The wall shivered before an archway appeared (much like Diagon Alley) with a CIA-type body guard. The body guard stepped aside and waved them through.

"Malfoy, why Muggle security?" Hermione muttered to Malfoy.

"See, Marie? Nothing to be worried about, dear," he said rather audibly. Hermione almost groaned aloud. He wasn't very good at acting. She quickly switched to French.

"Ah, le Draco, ceci est si passionnant! Je n'ai jamais été à une partie de fantaisie en Angleterre avant!"1 she said, trying to sound excited about being in Voldemort's lair.

"Je suis sûr que vous aurez un temps merveilleux, mon cher. Rappelez-vous juste ce que je t'ai dit, correct?"2 Malfoy answered, managing to sound caring.

"Ah, oui!" Hermione answered, happy enough to agree. Yes, she would remember his warnings about Voldemort. Hermione and Malfoy's brief French chat had brought them into the main Hall. The Hall was large and imposing and had only the dimmest lighting. _Probably to make them seem more sinister than psychotic and sadistic_, Hermione thought. The Hall was also arranged similarly to a medieval court. Voldemort himself sat at the very end of the Hall on a raised dais, with what appeared to be a few favoured minions behind him. All the other Death Eaters and their spouses ranked around the room, chatting to one another and drinking. It would be very classy if the people in it weren't insane. There was suddenly a loud rustling from the end of the Hall.

"Draco Malfoy, you've managed to come. And you brought your new girlfriend. How fun! Bring her here, I want to meet her." Voldemort's voice echoed coldly around the room. **(A/N: It's not that he's suddenly a nice(ish), happy guy, it's just that he's in an extremely good mood)** Malfoy and Hermione walked towards the dais, still holding hands. Hermione tightened her hold. Sure, she knew Voldemort was insane, but this was a little too weird.

"Lord Voldemort," Malfoy cringed inside. "I present Marie-Thérèse Lefebvre, the loveliest Witch in all of France." Hermione dutifully blushed, though she felt like laughing. Oh yes, Malfoy was terrible at acting. Malfoy just felt like puking. Why did he have to pretend to like her? Voldemort, on the other hand, was rather enchanted.

"Yes, yes. I can see that," Voldemort said, almost to himself, staring rather lasciviously at Hermione. "Well, come here, Mademoiselle Lefebvre, and greet me properly." Voldemort waited for Hermione to approach him. She was nearly shaking in terror. "Curtsy to the Lord Voldemort," he ordered. Hermione obeyed, trying not to wobble. Voldemort took her hand and kissed it. "Welcome to my Court, Marie-Thérèse Lefebvre. We could use you to help spread my ideas to the European Continent." His red eyes stared into hers.

"Of course, Lord Voldemort," she answered. Voldemort almost smiled, before waving them off.

"Go, mingle, drink."

Once away from the dais, Hermione let out a huge breath. "Why does he insist on acting like it's the sixteenth century? It's completely inane." She walked towards the bar. "I need a drink." Malfoy almost laughed.

"I have never seen him like that. He seemed to actually like you, instead of tolerating you, like he does with the rest of us." He followed her to the bar. "Two fire whiskeys." A barman hopped to it.

"That's because you didn't see the way he was looking at me," she said, taking the offered whiskey. **(A/N: Just in case there's confusion, right now they're in a corner and talking in really low voices and are rather close together. It looks like they're having some 'us' time.)**

"Is he not supposed to look at you?" Malfoy ventured, completely confused.

"No...He was looking at me the way you were earlier, except that he'd like to go King Henry VIII on me and order me into his bed." She said grimly, and started drinking her whiskey.

"I really have nothing to say to that." Malfoy also started on his fire whiskey. Hermione, who was looking rather sour, suddenly put on a cheerful face and started talking in her broken English.

"Oh, Draco, this place is wonderful! It reminds me of home," Malfoy looked around, before seeing Blaise and Pansy walking towards them.

"Draco! How've you been? Good evening, Marie," Blaise strode into the conversation, in between giving Malfoy a man-hug and letting Hermione kiss him on both cheeks – the French way.

"Bonjour, Marie," Pansy said, smiling at Hermione.

"Ah! Pansy! You are learning French!" Hermione pretended to be overjoyed, before hugging Pansy and also kissing her on both cheeks. "Oh Pansy, you must tell me everything that you have done since we last spoke! It is so nice to have a female friend..." So chatting, Hermione led Pansy off, feeling that Malfoy wanted to chat with Blaise alone.

time is fleeting and time passed

Later that evening, Voldemort stood up. "Now, my Death Eaters, is the time that we have been waiting for all evening!" He raised his arms triumphantly.

"I hope it is dinner," Hermione whispered to Pansy. "I'm hungry!" Pansy giggled. Voldemort continued speaking.

"Some of you may wonder why I have been acting..._strangely_ this evening. Your curiosity is about to be appeased! We have some special guests tonight, my friends! Please welcome the Smiths!" and in a space on the floor, three very frightened Muggles appeared. "We also have a new comer in our midst! And of course, that means that _she_ gets the honour of beginning the show!" The Death Eaters looked enviously at Hermione. Hermione swallowed. "Come forth, Marie-Thérèse Lefebvre, and begin tonight's entertainment!" Voldemort flung out his arms and the lights dimmed and flickered theatrically as Hermione was pushed forwards. She gulped, and tightened her grip on her wand that somehow materialized in her hand. "Go on, Mademoiselle Lefebvre," Voldemort said, with oily tones.

"I am afraid, Lord Voldemort, that I do not know the right spell," Hermione lied, hoping she wouldn't have to do anything the poor Muggles in front of her. Voldemort smiled coldly.

"Alright, my dear," Hermione hoped she would be pushed aside for someone more sadistic. "Point your wand and say '_crucio_'."

Hermione lifted her shaking arm and pointed her (also shaking) wand at the unsuspecting Muggles. "Crucio," she said reluctantly, closing her eyes. Screams of pain quickly filled the room. Hermione could feel bile rising in her throat. She could hear the laughter of the Death Eaters around her.

Suddenly.

Oh, so suddenly, a strange feeling sunk into her body. It crawled through her arms and her legs, through her heart, into her lungs. Her eyes flicked open and a dark light echoed within them. She gasped and almost fell backwards. As abruptly as the feeling had come, it had left. Voldemort, watching her, smiled an evil smile and stood once more.

"Thank you, Mademoiselle Lefebvre, for starting the entertainment so wonderfully. You may leave the area now." Hermione almost ran. She found Malfoy and threw herself into his arms, hiding her face.

"Malfoy, I want to go home. This place is making me sick." Malfoy nodded, while slowly disentangling himself. He went up to Voldemort and has a brief whispered conversation with him. Voldemort nodded. Malfoy ran back to Hermione.

"Come on, we can go." He let himself put his arm around her waist and led her out of the building. Interestingly enough, the limo was outside the door, waiting. Hermione didn't think about it, she was too busy trying not to throw up. Once inside the limo and on the way back, Hermione wrapped her arms around herself and stared into space. Malfoy was a little concerned she might go crazy.

"Granger?" He asked, tentatively. Hermione almost sobbed, then leaned on his shoulder. "It's alright, Granger. I threw up myself, after my initiation," came his clumsy attempt to comfort her.

"It was so...so..." Hermione couldn't finish.

"I know. I know."

Once back at the Manor, Malfoy helped Hermione to her room.

"Will you be alright, Granger?" he asked. He was trying to be nice...but he just didn't know how to comfort women. Was he doing it right?

"I...I think so, Malfoy. Thanks." Then her expression changed to one of disgust. "It was just so...so disgusting how those people could enjoy other people's pain! Ugh!"

"Good night. Tomorrow will be better." He firmly pushed her into her room and closed her door, before going off to his own room.

Hermione sighed and leant against the closed door. She had said that she was disgusted by the Death Eater's behaviour, which was true.

But mostly, she was disgusted with herself.

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Why is Hermione disgusted with herself? If I had a goatee, I'd stroke it. To help me think. Haha.

Okay, I'm sorry. It's been a really long time. But I was in grade 12 this year and had no time. I'm sorry, again. I'll try to be a little faster if you all ask nicely. 

Translations:

Oh, Draco, this is so exciting! I've never been to a fancy party in England before!

I'm sure you will have a wonderful time, my dear. Just remember what I told you, okay?

MTYCH


	8. Chapter 7

Antithesis of Virtue

Summary: He never thought they'd be able to get along, let alone fall for her. And he never imagined that she'd join him on the dark side.

Disclaimer: I am the proud owner of a free pen from my bank. Of course I don't own anything Harry Potter related. That all belongs to JKR. I'm just controlling the plot.

I would also like to clear some things up, if anyone was confused/angry/indignant. Voldemort just happens to have a wizard bodyguard who dresses like a CIA agent. We think it's to confuse everyone else. While you think that just being magical is security enough, it never hurts to have extras. And yes, I know Voldy should have just summoned Draco, but I needed plot development. Please get over it. And I apologise profusely for my grammar lapses. Oh, and Draco will be summoned from now on.

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Chapter 7: Malfoy Manor and St. Mungo's Hospital, December 12 and 13, 1999

It may have been over a week since Voldemort's dinner 'party', but Hermione still could not forget her 'initiation'. The Muggles' screams still haunted her sometimes. And that feeling. It kept coming back, usually when the screaming started in her head. Hermione couldn't figure out what it was, but the closest she could get was '_strength_'. And even that felt inadequately wrong.

All these thoughts were flying through her head when Hermione came across Malfoy sitting on the stairs, looking (for some strange reason) very dejected. She approached carefully – all of Hogwarts knew how dangerous it was to talk to an upset Slytherin.

"Uh...Malfoy?" he looked up.

"Granger, what are you doing here?" he asked with a glare.

"Malfoy, I'm kind of living here."

"Oh. Right." Malfoy went back to ignoring Hermione.

"So...um...what's wrong, Malfoy?" Hermione tightened her grip on her wand in case he was extra touchy today. **(A/N: Seven years with angsty Slytherins will do that to a person)**

"Go away."

"That wasn't an answer. Tell me for real, Malfoy." She sat down carefully, sitting as far away as possible.

"You actually don't want to know, Granger."

"You know what I think?" she didn't let him answer. "I think you don't want to talk with me because both of us are still under the impression that the other is the 'enemy'. Well, we're partners now, whether or not anyone likes it. So deal. And, on top of that, I think this juvenile surname calling isn't helping. We will have to call each other by our first names. You will call me Hermione from now on, and I will call you Draco." By the time this speech had finished, Draco was staring at Hermione in something akin to horror.

"You _what_?"

"You heard me, Draco," she said firmly, though she had to try hard to say 'Draco'.

"Gran - Hermione," he swallowed. "I told you before, you don't want to know why I'm upset."

"Pish posh. If we're going to be friendlier towards each other, there has to be trust involved." Hermione was nothing if not determined.

"Fine." Draco inhaled deeply. "Well...Christmas is coming up, and, well, this is the first year I've ever been at home without my parents here, and it just feels weird, okay?" As a member of the male sex, Draco found it offensive to talk about feelings. Especially his own. He tried to start ignoring Hermione again

"But, just your dad is..." Hermione trailed off. Only his dad was 'missing' (as in, IN JAIL), right? But where was his mom? Come to think of it, she hadn't seen or heard Narcissa Malfoy the entire time she'd been in the Manor. And surely she would have seen, if not heard, the woman if she was still in the Manor. "Where's your mum, Draco?"

"She's in St. Mungo's. For her alcohol abuse," Draco turned away again. He felt like crying.

"Oh...I'm sorry, Draco," Hermione got up. "I'll leave you alone now, okay?" and she walked away. Draco stayed where he was. As Hermione was walking, she started thinking up ways to make him feel better. _I never thought he could be so sensitive. Imagine, not having your family around you during Christmas! Poor guy...I wish there was some way I could make him feel better..._ Suddenly, her eyes lit up and she smiled. There _was_ something she could do.

The next day, Draco was in the library, and he was still not happy. He was pretending to read when Hermione jumped into the room, smiling excitedly. Draco really wished that the smile didn't prelude something he would deem painful. Which would be, in his opinion, everything except moping.

"Guess what, Draco?" she bubbled.

"What?" Draco asked. He decided it would be painful.

"I contacted St. Mungo's, and you know what? I was informed that, not only is visiting happily accepted, but that you _should_ visit your mother. They told me that she's getting better and has asked for you to come and visit!" Draco could only stare, gaping. Hermione began to get worried and started to back away. Then Draco suddenly leapt out of his chair.

"Oh, wow, Hermione!" this time he had no problem saying her name. "This is fabulous! How can I thank you?" Hermione smiled.

"I'm pretty sure you just did, Draco." He was still grinning. Hermione was happy that she had a part in that.

"When can we go?" Draco asked, sounding like a small child.

"Oh you can g – wait, 'we'?" Hermione stopped. They weren't _actually_ dating...why 'we'?

"Yes." Draco said firmly. "You're the one who started it. So you're coming. Deal with it." Hermione swore that Draco winked – maybe. Still confused, Hermione pressed on.

"But why? You're mother is supposed to hate people like me."

"Come on, Hermione. She's in the mental ward anyways. It's not like she'll remember." Draco was almost begging, which was strange for a Malfoy. Draco made a mental note to never beg again.

"Oh, fine." Hermione said, giving up. It's not like she had to talk to Narcissa Malfoy anyways.

Fifteen minutes later found Draco and Hermione in the reception area of St. Mungo's. Draco walked with determination to the desk.

"I would like to visit my mother, Narcissa Malfoy."

"Of course," said the frazzled receptionist. "Floor three, hall 6. You should find her alright." The frazzled receptionist went back to his work. **(A/N: Sorry if I put her on the wrong floor. I can't remember, and I'm too lazy to go get OotP off my shelf to check.)**

"Thanks." Draco left, with Hermione on his heels.

"See, Draco, it's not so hard, is it?" Hermione was almost teasing him.

"Be nice to my mother. She's had a hard time," Draco looked at her seriously. Hermione raised an eye brow.

"I'm honestly more worried about her recognizing me somehow and then trying to kill me," Hermione said. It was true, though. The Malfoys were a scary family.

"She's in rehab, Hermione. She's not going to hurt anyone." He smiled with reassurance.

"Oh, fine," Hermione gave up. Hopefully, Draco was right about his mother.

Fifteen minutes later, the pair stood in front of the door for the sixth hall. Draco shook his head before pushing the door open. Hermione briefly entertained the idea of just waiting for Draco until he came back, but he turned around and glared. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"You're such a wimp, Draco, did you know that? She's your own mother and you need back up? Jeez," but she grinned to take the sting off. With that, they had reached a MediWitch.

"Hello, why are you here?" This witch was a stark contrast to the frazzled receptionist. She was quite calm.

"We're here to visit my mother. Narcissa Malfoy,"

"Ah! You must be her son, Draco! She's been asking for you, you know," the woman said, confiding. "She's been wanting to know how you've been doing, and if you've met any nice girls," the woman's eyes slid to Hermione.

"This is my friend, Hermione," Draco said, rather stiffly. As if he would actually date her.

"Right. Well, nice of you to come, Hermione," the MediWitch said. "Well, here's Narcissa. Have a good visit." She left. Narcissa was propped up in her bed, pillows surrounding her, long blonde hair draped over her shoulders. Draco pulled up two chairs and sat beside her. Narcissa smiled at him.

"Draco, my son, I have been waiting for you to come," Narcissa said, sounding a little hoarse. She reached her hand out towards him.

"Oh, Mother, I've wanted to come. I've just been busy with...work," Draco said, taking her hand. "I've been worried about you."

"Draco, you could have come sooner. Or written..." Narcissa trailed off, finally catching sight of Hermione, who was hovering near the bed. "Who's this?" Narcissa asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"Mother, this is my friend Hermione," Draco said, grabbing Hermione's wrist and forcing her to sit down. "She's the one who convinced me to take a break and come visit you." Both he and Hermione knew it was a lie, but Narcissa's eyes welled.

"Oh, Hermione, thank you so much for getting my little boy here," Narcissa wiped her eyes. Hermione almost laughed at 'little boy', but stopped herself. Mothers were entertaining. _Draco is anything _but_ little. He had to be at least six feet tall..._Hermione suddenly realized what (or who!) she was thinking about and stopped.

"Mother!" Draco exclaimed, horrified. "I'm nineteen!" Hermione started to laugh. Narcissa smiled. "What?" he asked.

"You sounded just like a little kid!" Hermione said between her laughter. Draco crossed his arms and frowned. "And now you're pouting," Hermione pointed out. Draco immediately stopped, but not before his mother got into the conversation.

"Are you sure you're _nineteen_, Draco?" Narcissa asked her son, a smile pulling at her mouth.

"Oh, fine, I guess that was a little childish. Anyways, Mother, I got you a present," Draco said. He personally believed he was an expert conversation diverter. Narcissa's eyes lit up. Draco magically pulled a gift wrapped box out of his pocket and handed it to Narcissa.

"You're such a good boy, Draco..." she said, as she unwrapped the gift. Hermione slipped away, leaving mother and son to have some time alone. Tears started to flow down her cheeks. It was the nicest present Draco had ever gotten her.

It was a photo of her and Draco, taken just before everything started going wrong. Both of them were happy, healthy, and smiling in the photo. She put it on her bedside table. Narcissa was still crying a little. Draco conjured a tissue for her. Draco and Narcissa continued the conversation, not noticing that Hermione had disappeared. She was reading in the hallway, waiting for him to finish.

The visit was for him, anyways.

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This was the feel-good Christmas chapter. I know it's not actually Christmas, both in real life and the story, but Christmas is coming up in the story, and Christmas in the story will be busy fulfilling key plot and character development roles.

They're starting to be friends, haven't you noticed? And it's not that Hermione's falling in love with Draco or anything, she just cares about her friends. A lot. She's a good person.

Anyways, thanks for reading! Reviews are much appreciated! Cyber cookies for all reviewers! (Happy New School Year!)

-MTYCH


	9. Chapter 8

Antithesis of Virtue

Summary: He never thought they'd be able to get along, let alone fall for her. And he never imagined that she'd join him on the dark side.

Disclaimer: If I was JKRowling, which I'm not, would I honestly be writing fanfictions?

_APOLOGY FOR EVERYONE. I know you've been waiting over a year for this chapter. But I started university and school work and extracurriculars took over my life. I am so sorry. I do hope that this doesn't colour your opinion of my story or myself._

Chapter Eight: Malfoy Manor, December 22 to 24, 1999

Waking on the morning of the twenty-second, Hermione stretched, thinking _Three days until Christmas..._ She hopped out of bed before biting back a cry and hopping right back in. The floor was freezing cold. She sighed.

"Accio slippers," a swish and her slippers were on her bed. Hermione put them and slipped out of bed. At the window, Hermione gasped. The ground outside was blanketed in snow, hiding all the contours of the land. The trees were covered in frost, looking like sugar frosted candy. Everything glittered. It was the most beautiful scene she had seen in a long time.

****

Once dressed and comfortably warm, Hermione descended to the breakfast room.

"Good morning, Draco," Hermione said with a smile. A house elf served her a bowl of porridge. Draco looked at his own bowl.

"Morning..." He looked a little worried for some reason. "Hermione, I have to tell you some important things about this week. There's a Death Eater Christmas banquet tomorrow, so we both have to go, you've been invited again. Before you ask, I was summoned earlier this morning. And I know that Christmas is coming up and that you will want to spend it with your friends. But you can't." Hermione opened her mouth.

"Draco-" he cut her off.

"No, before you yell at me, I have to explain. You can't because Blaise and Pansy are coming over for Christmas Eve dinner. And it's still a 'no' because Theo Nott and his wife Kelly are coming as well. I'm sorry, though. I know you want to see your friends." Draco went back to eating his breakfast. Hermione frowned and stared at the porridge in front of her. She took a bite, thinking hard.

"When are they coming over?" she asked, formulating a plan.

"They should be coming over close to seven."

"So, so far there are no plans for the twenty fourth?"

"Besides the dinner. Why?"

"Because I can visit my friends that day."

"Fine. But you have to go to the banquet tomorrow."

"I don't want to go. I don't want to see some poor Muggle get tortured for 'fun'." Hermione crossed her arms, looking obdurate. Draco sighed.

It was obviously going to be another long day.

***************

"Hermione, please! You have to go to the banquet tomorrow!" Their argument had gone on since he had brought up the subject of the week's events that morning. Draco felt like he'd rather fight a blast-ended skrewt than continue the argument a minute longer.

"No. Draco, no. I've told you a million times before. No." Hermione paused her angry stride long enough to glare at him. She continued to her room.

"Hermio – " Her glare, this time, stopped his words in his mouth.

"Shut up." Hermione closed the door to her room firmly in Draco's face. She continued her mad stalk to her bed, where she sat down and hugged a pillow. Hermione stared resolutely out the window. She sniffed.

"Hermione, you have got to do this. Don't you remember what you promised when you took this job?" Silence. Draco rested a hand on the door. "Do you want to ruin this? Blow our cover? Is that what you want?" More silence. "Why won't you do it? Do this, please." Even more silence. Draco's voice changed. "Please?" his voice was softer now, almost fragile. He heard the creak of bedsprings.

The door opened. Hermione stood in the triangle of light from her room. Her hair was messier than usual, her skin had paled and she had a single tear track running down her left cheek. Draco was overcome by the need to take her in his arms and kiss her.

"Fine. I'll go. I'm going to bed now; goodnight," she smiled a little and closed the door. Draco leaned against the wall and ran his hands through his hair. _What is wrong with me? Why did I feel like kissing her?_ _I can barely stand to be in the same room as her..._ He set off for the library, intent on another night of reading and confusion.

Hermione was brushing her teeth. Her mind wandered to how Draco looked haloed by the torches lighting his blond hair. It was so beautiful. Her eyebrows snapped together. "Wait. What?" Hermione said to her reflection. "What the crap am I thinking?" she shook her head and kept brushing her teeth.

*******************

The twenty third of December dawned bright and clear. Hermione sat in bed and chewed her lip. Today was the Death Eater Christmas Banquet. She was not looking forward to it. She started to wonder if there was any way to get out of doing any of the so-called Muggle sporting 'fun'.

Draco sat in his study, pondering. He was still pondering why he had felt like kissing Hermione the night before. It had been five hours and he still had no idea why. He got out of his chair and strode through the door. Whatever it was would have to wait. He had to make an appearance at the Ministry, since his job required him to go into the Ministry at least every now and then.

********

"Thanks," Hermione mumbled as a house elf handed her a steaming cup of tea. She had been reading in the library for hours. She stretched broadly in her chair and yawned. The clock in the library struck five o'clock. Hermione sat up straight, staring at the clock. "Shit, I should start getting ready for that stupid banquet..." She wandered off to her room.

Once in her room, she threw open her armoire and stared at her gowns. After several minutes of deliberation, she finally chose a deep blue dress with silver beads sewn around the neckline. She hung it on the hook by her mirror. Hermione stripped and walked into the bathroom, glaring at her reflection. Once in the shower, she let the hot water slide across her skin, relaxing her. She pumped some apricot body wash on her wash cloth. _'What's with Draco, anyways?'_ she thought, a frown creasing her lips. _'Him...with his...blond hair...and seeker body...lovely blue eyes...heart-pounding smile...'_ Hermione stopped what she was doing and looked confused. She shook her head and finished her shower. After wrapping a towel around herself, she brushed her teeth, still glaring at her reflection.

Draco straightened his tie and knocked on Hermione's door. "Marie-Thérèse Lefebvre, it's time for you to make your appearance." The door opened. Draco worked very hard not to openly gape. Her dress had a plunging neckline, edged in silver, on a dark blue full length dress. Her eye shadow was the same colour as her dress. She had put on fake eye lashes and dusted silver over them. Her hair was up in a bun with some wisps hanging down.

"This is appropriate for a Christmas Banquet, no?" Hermione said in her still heavily accented English. Draco nodded.

"Yes, yes, it's fine." He looked at his own outfit. "Good thing I wore my dark blue tie, huh?" she smiled. Draco offered his arm. "Shall we?" Hermione took his proffered arm.

*****

They apparated into the apparation hall. Draco turned to Hermione. "Ready for this?"

"If I said I wasn't, could I go home?"

"No."

"Then I'm ready."

"Good." They walked into the main hall. Several Death Eaters and their spouses nodded at them as they walked to the other end of the room to pay their respects to Lord Voldemort. Hermione's hand tightened on Draco's arm as they got closer to his chair. "Calm down, you've already done the hard part and met him." She gave him a Look. He was about to retort when he stopped at the sound of Voldemort's greeting.

"Good evening, Draco. And Marie-Thérèse Lefebvre, how nice to see you again," his voice was icy cold and sent shivers down Hermione's spine. She did a brief curtsy.

"It is lovely to be here again. Merci beaucoup for inviting me tonight." Voldemort did something that, on a normal person, would be an indulgent smile. On him, it was bone-chillingly terrifying. He waved them off. Once a safe distance away, Hermione shuddered. "So...creepy..." Draco put his hand on her lower back and took her hand with his other.

"Come on, we'll get you a drink. Pansy should be here somewhere. You can have some girl bonding. Or whatever it is you girls do." Pansy was, in fact, at the bar. "Ah. Wonderful." He sat Hermione at one of the chairs. "Get Marie a drink, of any kind. I have to go see your husband. I'll be back soon, Marie," he kissed her lips quickly before disappearing into the party. Both Hermione and Pansy watched him go. Pansy sighed.

"Draco is such a wonderful man," she said.

"Yes he is," Hermione responded, her eyes softening. Pansy looked at her and grinned.

"Are you two in love?" Hermione's eyes widened slightly.

"What? What makes you say that, Pansy?" she hoped that she didn't sound horrified. Hopefully just generally confused and shocked.

"I see the way he looks at you from across the room," Pansy's eyes flicked towards his blond head. Hermione had no idea how to respond. So she decided it was time to bring in the language barrier back up. She put on a look of confusion.

"I...I'm terribly sorry Pansy, but I am afraid zat I do not understand exactly what you mean..."

"What do you think of us Death Eaters, then?" Pansy wisely dropped the subject, changing it to another, even more dangerous, topic.

"Well...you all have really good fashion sense..." Hermione took a healthy swallow of her fire whiskey. _'Dear God, I'm going to be found out tonight...'_ Pansy's supra-annoying giggle floated through the air. Hermione cringed.

"You're so nice, Marie! Thank you so much!" Hermione smiled weakly. Pansy continued "But really, what do you think of us?"

"Truthfully...You are all very intimidating." Hermione took another drink. Pansy grinned.

"I don't believe you! Us, intimidating? You're the woman the rest of us are apprehensive about! Draco would only ever be with a witch who is just as, if not more, smarter and dangerous than he is! A lot of us are very curious to know how you two met." Hermione blushed. To think that the girl who hated her all through Hogwarts was suddenly intimidated by her. What a laugh!

"Oh, Pansy! I don't think I'm anything like that!" Modesty will get you far in life. While they were talking, several other Death Eater women, wives and girlfriends wandered over. Hermione suddenly found herself surrounded by rather dangerous women.

"Tell us how you met! I'm sure it's cute!" was the resounding question of the group. By the amount of people there, Hermione knew there was no way she could get out of it. So, she sighed and began telling a completely made up story of how she and Draco met and hoped no one asked him before the night ended.

Across the ballroom, Draco was being accosted by Blaise. "Come on, man, why aren't you telling me? We used to tell each other everything!"

"I don't want to tell you about this!" Draco protested.

"I'm a married man! I have to live vicariously through my single friends! How is the French girl in bed? Is it anything like the stories we hear?" Blaise was poking Draco in the side by this point.

"No! Stop poking me! I'm not telling you! I have more respect for Marie than that!" Draco was surprised to find that, somehow, he had discovered some sort of respect for Hermione that he didn't really want to make up things about her.

"You are really no fun anymore. I just wanted to know what she was like!" Again, this conversation drew a few other men to their conversation.

"Is she pretty, Draco?" Greg Goyle asked, stupidly, in many of the men's opinions.

"Are you an idiot, Greg? She's right there, can't you see?" Adrian Pucey yelled at Goyle. Luckily, before Goyle was able to figure out if Pucey had insulted him, Voldemort stood up, his arms sweeping, calling them all to attention.

"Tonight, my loyal Death Eaters, we come together for a Christmas banquet. Yet, as we all know, it is a stupid, and rather silly, Muggle tradition. So, tonight, we celebrate the birth of the Muggle 'Saviour' with death!" He flung one pale white arm towards a door where Wormtail opened it to see a line of twelve terrified Muggles of all ages. "I bring you, the appetizer!" Wormtail shoved the Muggles in front of the Death Eaters. Hermione felt like she might be sick. "Who would like to take the first portion?" Voldemort called to his followers. A dark-haired woman pushed her way to the front of the congregated mass of Death Eaters.

"My Lord, it would be my pleasure to start the fun!" It was Bellatrix Lestrange. _Sadistic bitch_, Hermione thought bitterly.

Voldemort nodded. "Of course, Bella." The other Death Eaters moved away from her as she raised her wand. She took a breath and aimed.

"Crucio!" she shouted. It was, of course, her favourite curse. It hit a middle aged Muggle and she screamed in pain. The other eleven Muggles started to scream in terror. Bellatrix started laughing.

"Let the banquet begin!" Voldemort called over the laughter and screams. With that, the Death Eaters joined in the fray. Hermione was considering excusing herself and hiding in the bathroom when Draco appeared at her side. He was slightly breathless and she knew that he had been participating in the 'fun'. She glared at him.

"OK Hermione," he whispered in her ear, making it look as though they were doing...whatever lovers do. "I've done my part to make it look like I'm a good Death Eater. You have to do something."

"I don't _want_ to." She hissed through gritted teeth. Hermione continued to glare.

"Look, you don't have to do anything really painful to them. You don't have to cause them pain. Just put a little jinx on one of them, like what students do in Hogwarts. You will look like someone Voldemort can trust and you'll just make the other Death Eaters laugh." Hermione continued to glare. Draco sighed. "If you don't, people will just be sent to investigate us, and you want our job to succeed, right?"

Shooting him one last glare, Hermione nodded. "Fine, one little jinx. And then I'd really like to go be sick or something." Draco put an arm around her waist and pulled her towards the suffering Muggles. She swallowed several times and set her jaw.

Once in the fray, she found a younger Muggle, hoping that his youth would make it hurt a little less the next day – if they were allowed to live, of course. "Engorgio" she said loudly, pointing her wand at him blindly. The jinx hit his nose and it started growing exponentially. The other Death Eaters slowly started noticing and laughing as his nose got so big that he started to lean forwards. Hermione turned her head as his nose finally reached a size to tip him over. Pansy's voice cut through the laughter and screams.

"Wonderful, Marie! Do another one!" Her voice was full of glee. Hermione wanted to throw up. Instead, she followed Pansy's command, knowing at least several Death Eaters were watching her.

"Locomotor mortis!" She called, louder this time, at another Muggle. The Muggle's legs snapped together and she fell to the floor like a felled tree. More laughter ensued.

"Do another one!" another female voice shouted. Hermione frowned, but set a babbling curse on another Muggle. She felt like crying. Hermione never liked jinxing anyone. Suddenly, someone was behind her, grasping her wand hand.

"Wonderful, Froggy," came the silken, yet insane, voice of Bellatrix Lestrange. "Now let's see what you can do for real. Put that one -" Bellatrix forced Hermione's arm to point at another Muggle. "– under the Imperious curse. _Do it!_" she hissed in her ear.

"Imperio!" Hermione shouted this time. Suddenly she had a strange feeling in her head and stomach. It was...such an unbelievable rush of power. She could make this Muggle, this _human_, do whatever she wanted. Hermione's eyes glazed over. "Moo like a cow," she whispered, embracing the terrible, wonderful feeling of control. The Muggle mooed. Hermione started to giggle, revelling in her own power.

"Wonderful." Bellatrix said happily, patting Hermione on the head before moving off to throw some more curses around. Hermione was too busy giggling to care about being patronized by the insane witch. Draco suddenly spotted Hermione giggling, swaying on her feet, pointing her wand at another Muggle. _Holy shit, I've got to get her out of this thing!_ He realized suddenly, seeing her being slowly engulfed by the strange power cursing gave people. Draco started pushing his way through the crowd of gleeful Death Eaters. He managed to make it to Hermione's side after she'd shot off two more curses. She was still giggling.

"Marie!" He said, shaking her shoulder. Her head turned towards him and her eyes softened slightly as she saw him.

"Oh, Draco, I can't...can't believe..." Hermione was still giggling a little. Draco turned her completely towards him.

"Marie, how are you doing?" he gave her a hard look. She looked back, a little confused. Draco needed her complete attention, fast. So he did the only thing he could think of. He kissed her hard on the lips. To both of their surprise, Hermione kissed back, just as hard. Draco broke away, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Hermione's eyes widened as she realized what she just did. She swayed noticeably and her face paled.

"I think I'm going to be sick," she said, as the realization of what she had been doing to the Muggles hit her.

"Down the hall, to the left. You're allowed to run." Draco pushed her gently towards the hallway.

"Come on, Draco, you can't be that bad of a kisser!" Blaise yelled to the general merriment of the crowd.

*****

Much later, the two were returning to Malfoy Manor.

"Are you going to be all right, Hermione?" Malfoy asked, as he helped her up the stairs to her room.

"Yes, yes, I'm going to be fine." Hermione insisted, for what felt like the millionth time, but was really only the seventh of the night. Her mind was frantically trying to figure out what had happened to her that night. The feeling of elation and power both thrilled and terrified her. Hermione was exhausted and confused.

"As long as you're sure," Draco shrugged. Understanding women was never really his forte anyways. They finally ended up outside her room. "Well, here we are. Do you need any more help?" She shook her head no.

"I should be fine. Thanks anyways, though." The pair stood awkwardly for a moment.

"Well...goodnight, I guess." Draco said, breaking the silence. Hermione smiled.

"Goodnight," her hand found his and she squeezed it briefly. He suddenly tightened his grip on her hand and leaned in and kissed her cheek. Hermione's eyes widened slightly and she quickly disappeared into her room.

Once inside, she thought _What the hell__‽_. Unbeknownst to her, Draco was thinking the exact same thing as he headed to his own room.

*********************

Hermione woke up the next day feeling very groggy. She was still confused about the previous night. Then she remember what day it was.

"Yay," she said. It was the twenty fourth of December and she got to visit Harry, Ron and Ginny. _Happy days_, she thought, as she bounced to her bathroom to get ready for the day.

She was heading out of the Manor an hour later when Draco stopped her. "Be back by 4:30 at the latest, Hermione. Company is coming, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah," she flapped her hand at him, indicating that she heard him, as she disappeared out the door.

*****  
"OHMYGODHERMIONE!" sounded from somewhere in her old apartment when a ginger-haired rock hit her around the stomach. "Guys! Hermione is here!" Ginny yelled, close to Hermione's ear.

"Hi, Ginny," Hermione said, grinning and hugging Ginny back. "How've you been?" Ginny stepped back.

"Oh, alright. Missing you, though. It's not the same without you. How are you?"

"Surprisingly fine." Ginny opened her mouth to ask a question when Harry and Ron came in from the kitchen, both with dustings and patches of flour all over their clothes and exposed skin. "...Are those two _cooking_?" she asked incredulously, spying them. The two young men grinned sheepishly.

"Yes, I'm teaching them how to use magic to cook things." Ginny said, laughing a little.

"Unfortunately, Ron has terrible aim." Harry put in.

"You just get in the way a lot," Ron retorted. They both grinned. Hermione gave Ginny a weird look. Ginny shrugged.

"Harry! Ron! Come give me a hug, you useless boys," Hermione said, grinning. They obliged.

"'Kay Hermione, we made you brunch. I hope you're hungry," Ron said, sounding rather excited.

"I'm excited to see what you guys came up with," she said laughing, as she and Ginny went into the living room to catch up.

*****

"You're growing up! I'm so proud!" Hermione said, laughing, as she patted Harry and Ron's cheeks.

"Yes, Ron can almost pass as my older brother now," Ginny added, giggling herself. Ron tried to smack her, but she ducked out of the way. Ginny stuck her tongue out. Harry shoved Ron back onto the couch.

"How is Malfoy treating you, Hermione? You know if he's awful just tell us and we'll go beat him up for you," Harry said, trying to sound tough. Ginny snorted in disbelief.

"You two couldn't beat up a potato," she said. Hermione laughed again.

"She's probably right, you know. In any case, he's fine. We're getting along fine and we've had no overly huge problems." Hermione stayed silent about the previous night and the strange things that kept happening between her and Draco. She doubted she'd even tell Ginny in private.

"I don't believe you. He's always been a stuck up prig." Ron said flatly.

"People change, you know. You've changed in the past decade or so. What's to say he hasn't?" Hermione, the voice of reason, strikes again at Ron. Ron only glared obdurately at her.

"Because he's a twat, ok?"

"Poor reasoning, Ron," Ginny put in. "If Hermione says he's fine, then I believe her." Strangely enough, that seemed to end the argument.

*****

The hours passed, and suddenly Hermione realized it was four twenty.

"Damn it! I have to be back in ten minutes. I have to go pretend to be someone else and have company over and speak English terribly soon." Hermione didn't mean to sound bitter. Pretending to be French was kind of fun sometimes. Harry and Ron frowned.

"Do you really have to? We barely get to see you anymore..."

"Well, this is my job, so I have to go..." the four friends wandered to the door where they exchanged goodbyes. "I'll try to visit another day, really!" Hermione called as she disapparated from their front hall.

*****  
"Happy?" Hermione asked Draco, striding into the library. "I'm back ten minutes early." He looked up from the book he was reading.

"Yes." She glared. "What? I'm sorry if they like to be early and it would look terribly suspicious if you came in late yelling 'Draco, I had a wonderful day at Harry and Ron's' in a perfectly good English accent." Hermione had to grin at that.

"Fine, you win this one. I'll go put on my 'Aren't I such a nice, slightly stupid French girl?' outfit that also says 'I am a wonderful host, please love me!'" Draco smiled.

"Well, I don't think you could ever give off any vibe that said 'stupid', but go ahead if that makes you happy." Hermione rolled her eyes while smiling and left to change. Neither noticed that he had complimented her, nor that she didn't react negatively.

*****  
"Well, you have 'French girl' down, Hermione," Draco said later, while they were waiting for their guests.

"Are you insinuating that I look bad?" Hermione asked in a mock offended tone.

"Your disbelief wounds me," Draco said, mocking hurt.

"Oh, shut up." Hermione gently shoved him. They both grinned at each other. Again, no notice was made of their amiability. The large grandfather clock struck the quarter-hour. Draco settled his shoulders.

"Opening the door..." he said, almost to himself. He walked forwards and opened the door to admit the Zabinis and Notts, who had just appeared. "Hello," Draco said, moving aside to let in the two couples. Blaise and Theo shook Draco's hand while Pansy ushered a woman Hermione didn't know towards her.

"Marie, I'm sure you and Kelly haven't been properly introduced yet," Pansy said once the three women were away from the men. Hermione shook her head no. "Well then, Mrs Kelly Nott, may I introduce you to Miss Marie-Thérèse Lefebvre. Marie is from France," Pansy added, in confidentiality tones. Hermione almost rolled her eyes. Kelly Nott looked interested, though.

"Really? I visited there are a young girl, myself," she said, her voice warm but missing the warm tones of a British accent. "The Riviera was, by far, my favourite place." Hermione smiled and spoke.

"Yes, so many people say that when they visit France! If you don't mine me asking, Mrs Nott - "

"Oh, please, call me Kelly."

" – Kelly, you're not from England, are you?" Kelly laughed lightly.

"Oh, no. I'm from California, in the States. Theo and I met in New York City, though. We were both there on vacation." Hermione's interest was piqued. Other wizarding schools? She just had to learn more.

"So there are wizarding schools in the states?" she asked, trying very hard not to sound too much like the Hermione from Hogwarts.

"Oh yes, there are several, actually. Since the US is so big."

"I am very interested in other schools, you know. A little hobby of mine. Would you care to tell me about your school?" Hermione, by this point, desperately hoped that Pansy wasn't noticing anything Hermione-like about Marie.

"Oh, yes, of course." Kelly said and started to tell Hermione and Pansy about her school.

Across the room, the men were watching them with slightly confused expressions.

"How is it," Theo Nott said. "that you can put at least two women together, anywhere, and almost immediately they are talking like they've known each other for centuries?" The other men shrugged, frowning slightly.

"I have no idea, Theo." Draco said, clapping his hand on his friend's shoulder. "It seems to be one of those things that goes along with their mothering and PMS."

"Oh, it's definitely a woman thing." Blaise put in. "You really went all the way to the States to find a wife?"

"Well, yes, of course. You think I'd marry one of the, like, six pureblood girls from Slytherin? Don't you know anything about genetics?" Blaise and Draco looked at him blankly. Theo sighed. "It doesn't matter. Just know that she's a pureblooded witch and she is going to be good for the magical population of Britain." ((A/N:_ In OP Sirius told Harry that most of the wizarding families in Britain were related somehow. Theo learned something about genetics and genes and figured out that bringing in new genes (i.e., his wife) would help create genetic variability and prevent the future witches and wizards of Britain from turning into horribly inbred specimens._))

"God damn." Blaise said, sounding defeated. "I should have gone somewhere else years ago to find someone. Why did she have to force me into marriage, anyways?" Theo and Draco knew it was better not to answer this question.

"I'm sure you'll end up happy later," Draco tried consoling Blaise.

"Or, you can kill her later," Theo put in wickedly, ignoring Draco's glare.

"And be killed by, like, everyone in return?" Blaise said, horrified. "No, thank you." Draco chuckled and changed the subject, since he did not want to hear Theo and Blaise argue for several hours.

*****  
A house elf finally called the three couples to dinner. Dinner passed peacefully, accented by laughter as the six's inhibitions were ironed out by wine.

"Kelly hasn't heard how you two met, you know!" Pansy said, a little louder than normal because of the wine.

"But I've told it so many times!" Hermione protested, giggling.

"Come on, I bet it's adorable! You two are so cute together!" Kelly pitched in, smiling broadly.

"Oh...fine..." Hermione said, but smiled anyways. She took another sip. "Well, we were both in Paris at the same time, and I was walking along and I dropped my purse – "

" – And I picked it up and ran after you – "

" – And you told me I dropped my purse and then when you saw me you said...What did you say?"

"I can't remember!"

"It was the cheesiest, most awful pick up line ever!"

"What was it?" from Kelly.

"Draco, you didn't!" from Theo.

"It was something like...'Did it hurt?' so I said 'Did what hurt?' and he said 'Did it hurt when you fell from Heaven?'" laughter abounded.

"Draco, you didn't!" from Blaise.

"I did! I did! I didn't know what else to say!" Draco laughed, taking another sip.

"I'm afraid I was rather brusque after that, but he kept following me and insisting that I go on one date with him." More laughter from the increasingly drunk group.

"And now look! I got her, didn't I?" Draco said triumphantly.

"That _was_ adorable, Marie!" Kelly said.

"I told you!" Pansy giggled.

"You lucky bastard! That never would have worked on Kelly."

"How do you know? You didn't try!" the group laughed.

"Aren't you two going to kiss now?" Pansy inquired through her laughter.

"What?" Hermione was afraid she sounded far too shocked.

"After a story like that, you aren't going to kiss?" Pansy was shocked.

"Of course we are," Draco put in. "We just don't like being predictable!" And he pulled Hermione towards him and kissed her soundly on the lips. He was surprised when she started to kiss back. They pulled apart, blushing, when the other four started whistling and clapping.

"Augh, you're so cute! Why aren't you that cute, Theo?" Kelly said, poking her husband.

"Yeah, Blaise, why aren't you?" Pansy said, snuggling up to her husband. Blaise put his arm around her.

"Because, my dear, if we were all that adorable, the universe would implode," he explained, twirling a lock of her hair around his finger.

"What? Don't lie!" Pansy said, gently elbowing him in the stomach.

"No, I swear it's true." The six of them continued to laugh into the night.

*****  
"Good night!"

"Good bye!" Good byes all settled, Hermione closed the door, still swaying slightly from the alcohol. Draco slipped his arm around her waist.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked, seeing his arm around her waist.

"You're drunk. I'm making sure you don't fall down and hurt yourself," he stated, his own words slurring faintly. "I'll help you up the stairs."

"You're drunk too! You're slurring your words!"

"No I'm not. I've always spoken this way."

"I'm sure I would have noticed before now!"

"Alcohol increased your notice of details, Hermione."

"Just shut up." By this point, they were on the landing near their bedrooms. They looked at each other through alcohol tainted morals. Hermione reached up and pushed Draco's hair behind his ear and rested on the back of his neck. His hand slide around her waist.

They kept staring at each other.

He was staring into her eyes. Her beautiful, brown eyes.

She was fixated on his lips. His kissable lips.

She leaned forward was as he was. They kissed and, this time, little electric shocks twisted through their bodies.

She was _kissing_ him.

He was _kissing_ her.

They kept kissing. Their tongues danced. They could barely breathe. Draco moved, and was kissing her neck. Hermione gasped and her eyes flew open.

Suddenly she realized what was happening. What they were doing.

She shoved him away. He looked at her, confusion on his face. "No!" She said, her eyes still wide and welling up with tears. Hermione ran to her room and slammed the door before Draco could follow her.

Draco went to knock, but though better of it when he thought he could hear her crying. Instead, his hand rested on the door for a moment and he shook his head. He left and went to his own rooms.

He spent the entire night awake, staring at the ceiling.

She cried herself to sleep.

_There, chapter eight! Again, I apologize so much for not updating sooner, but, like I said, life caught up with me. I'll try a little harder this year, so don't worry._

_Cookies for everyone who waited patiently._

_Amy_


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